


All Thumbs

by MoanDiary



Series: Together Alone [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, First Time, Fluff, The Porn Is the Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 03:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary
Summary: “You know what? I’m gonna go turn my phone off.”“Detective!” He exclaims, chest heaving as if she’s just said something unbearably erotic.





	All Thumbs

He’s all elbows and thumbs, when they finally collide. Anxious, joyful, fumbling.

Not the suave, controlled confidence she might have expected, nor the passionate virtuosity. They kiss, and he stumbles almost drunkenly, knees weak with something like relief, sending them careening into the side of the piano, which scoots a few inches across the floor with an indignant screech. He throws out a hand to catch himself and somehow manages to bring it down on the overhanging edge of a tray, catapulting its contents of two tumblers and a bottle of scotch across the room with a crash.

“Bollocks,” he says breathlessly, breaking away to survey the damage. Chloe doesn’t bother to stop kissing him, lips trailing up his jaw to nip at the edge of his ear, hands sliding down his abdomen, unbuttoning and untucking along the way. His fretting melts into a moan as she deploys her tongue, doing that thing Dan used to always love but which she never imagined would be anything but pedestrian to Lucifer. The hand not braced against the piano tightens convulsively on her hip.

“You like that?” She’s more genuinely curious than attempting to be sexy, but he makes a noise that might have started out as a salacious moan in his head but ends up in plaintive whimper territory, nodding vehemently. Even if he weren’t emitting a continual and varied soundscape of pleased noises, the insistence of his erection pressing into her belly makes it plain what his opinion is. Nevertheless, he seems to be frozen in place, the hand clamped on the lid of the piano white-knuckled and the one on her hip noticeably shaking.

She draws back a bit to look at him. His pupils are blown with arousal and his mouth is open and gasping, but he’s staring at her like she’s a complex math problem, eyebrows furrowed, and she can almost feel the waves of his desire mojo crashing and breaking ineffectually over her. She snorts a little laugh and takes pity on him.

“Do you want to, um, take me to bed?”

“Yes, right.” He lets out a relieved exhale and begins to step away to lead her towards the bedroom just as she makes an abortive hop, expecting him to pick her up. The result is one of her legs hooked over his arm and her hands catching at his shirt and hair respectively as she loses balance with a yelp. He has the sheer strength to prevent them both from going down in an undignified tumble, but the moment is about as unsexy as it gets.

After a moment of staring at each other in silence, Chloe says “Whoops,” and they both dissolve into laughter. Lucifer gently lowers her the rest of the way to the floor and sinks down after her in near-hysterics, leaning against the leg of the piano.

When the laughing finally tapers off, Lucifer wipes a tear of mirth from his eye and gestures with his head towards the bedroom. “You still want to…?”

“Nah.”

Chloe tackles him to the floor. His head collides with the Italian marble with a bit more force than she intended but his “Ow!” of protest is muffled by the fact that she’s sticking her tongue down his throat, and he doesn’t seem much inclined to protest further.

“You—mmmph, ‘tective, you—” He’s pulling at her jacket and, she eventually realizes, trying to say something.

She falls back to nip at his neck with a sigh. “You just don’t shut up, do you?”

He flushes a bit, but from the expression on his face, he doesn’t seem embarrassed or remotely unhappy at her exasperation. Maybe the opposite.

“I just, ah, I wanted to…you’re—we’re both in clothes. Wearing them. And maybe we shouldn’t…be?” He finishes lamely.

“Fair enough.” She sits up and quickly shucks off her jacket and starts on her shirt. Lucifer’s hands dart out at the same time and collide with hers as he attempts to undo the buttons for her.

“No, can you just—why don’t you start at the bottom, and I’ll start at the top.” He rolls his eyes but obliges and soon enough her shirt is open and while she’s pulling her arms out of the sleeves he takes the opportunity to unhook the front closure on her bra and push it aside.

He lets out a little sigh and gazes at her breasts affectionately. “_There_ they are. Oh, how I’ve missed you two.”

He leans forward and rubs a cheek against one, palming the other, his eyes falling shut. “My darlings.”

Chloe clears her throat and looks down at him, amused. “Am I interrupting something? Should I go and leave you three to it, or…?”

Lucifer pouts up at her. “You can’t begrudge me this, Detective. Do you know how short that scene in Hot Tub High School is? I had to buy a new remote because the bloody rewind button broke—“

“Alright, alright,” she says testily, unbuttoning her jeans and then ending up on her back trying to shimmy out of them, realizing too late that she forgot to take her boots off first and nearly kicking Lucifer in the face when he attempts to help her.

“Can you not—do your own pants!”

He obliges and only whacks his head loudly into the underbelly of the piano once in the process.

Finally, when they’ve both accomplished nudity, panting now more from exertion than arousal, they look at each other. Lucifer’s eyes are shining with devotion and she hopes hers look the same, because she certainly feels it. She can hardly believe he’s here, that he made his way back to her. That they overcame Hell and demons and ill-advised relationships with various members of a famous biblical family. She can’t entirely ignore the niggling anxiety that he’s going to be taken from her again, that some ill-timed—

“You know what? I’m gonna go turn my phone off.”

“Detective!” He exclaims, chest heaving as if she’s just said something unbearably erotic.

She scrambles inelegantly out from under the piano and pads over to where she threw her jacket, fumbling through the pockets for her phone, holding down the power button impatiently until the screen goes black, and then tossing it aside.

When she turns around he’s crawling out from under the piano and clambering to his feet, looking at her with a big-eyed, hopeful expression, his erection unflagging and eager as the rest of him.

Following her gaze, he looks down at himself and back up at her. “You…like what you see?” While a couple years ago he would have almost certainly asked the same question with the unflappable confidence of declaring 2+2=4, now he seems only cautiously optimistic, as if prepared for her to defy his expectations at every turn.

She chews on her bottom lip and nods, slowly walking towards him. When they meet, she runs her hands up his chest, skimming his nipples and curling over his shoulders. His hands go reflexively to her waist.

“_Now_ do you want to take this into the bedroom?”

She shakes her head, smiling, and begins to walk him backwards. He looks confused but intrigued, moving obligingly where she directs him, just as he always does.

He’s too distracted looking into her eyes to realize where they’ve gone, or how far, so when the backs of his legs collide with the edge of his couch, he falls back onto it with a startled noise, Chloe landing on top of him with a triumphant grin.

She urges him backwards until he’s lying stretched out on his back with her pressed against his side, hooking a leg over his possessively. His left arm curls under her side, pressing her against him as her hand roams up and down his torso. He brings his free hand to her cheek and kisses her filthily, all tongue and technique, seeming to finally find his confidence again.

A moan escapes Chloe unbidden and her hand slides down to finally grasp his cock, giving it a firm stroke.

Suave Lucifer immediately disappears again, his hips thrusting up off the cushions and his mouth breaking away from hers in surprise.

“Detective,” he gasps. “Please.”

“Please what?”

He gapes and his mouth opens and closes a couple of times wordlessly. “Do that…more?”

She laughs and begins to stroke him slowly, avidly watching expressions flit in quick succession across his face as she tries different things. And the _sounds_ he’s making…

She realizes she’s been rubbing herself against his hip when she feels the long, dextrous fingers belonging to the arm behind her back sliding between her legs.

“Oh my, but you _are_ wet,” he breathes with something akin to disbelief.

She chuckles. “Well, yeah. Pretty much ready to go whenever I so much as think about you.”

“Is that so? And during my…absence. What have you been doing when you think about me?”

His fingers, which have been sliding back and forth against her slick folds lazily all the while, dip shallowly into her. Chloe gasps, her hand tightening around him and making him gasp in turn.

“Well, nothing when I’m at work. Which is most of the time.”

His fingers very deliberately graze her clit. “And when you’re not at work?”

She blushes and looks up at the ceiling to avoid his smoldering look, gasping when she finds their image reflected there in the inky mirror finish. Lucifer follows her gaze and smiles.

“Quite a picture we make, hm?”

Chloe buries her face in his neck, mumbling something against him.

“Come again, darling?”

She lifts her head enough to say “Happy Birthday Amanda.”

“Happy birthday…who?”

“There’s a video. Called ‘Happy Birthday Amanda.’ You’re…in it. I watch that when I think about you outside of work. Sometimes. And sometimes…” The rest of the sentence is muffled by his neck again.

He prompts her with another firm movement of his fingers against her.

“The porn,” she gasps. “With you and Misty Canyons.”

“Detective!” He is inordinately delighted. She’s sure she’ll never hear the end of this. “I’d never have imagined! If only I’d thought of it beforehand, I could have given you the entire film. I believe I’m the only one who has a complete copy. It was a bit of a freelance project on dear Misty’s part and there was some unpleasantness with her agent about it. But it’s quite good, if I do say so myself.”

“And what about you?” She asks defiantly.

“Oh, wanking’s not particularly satisfying in Hell,” he responds matter-of-factly, absently stroking her breast with his free hand. “Not for lack of trying, I assure you. Anyway, that’s not really where my head was at. I didn’t miss sex so much as…there was a particular Hell loop where…” He swallows a few times with difficulty, and for the first time since they started his erection flags a little. She can tell because she still has her fingers wrapped around it.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she murmurs, letting go of him in favor of brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead and stroking her thumb along his brow.

He gazes at her imploringly. “I want to tell you everything.”

“Okay, we can talk about it. But my gut tells me that’s not a conversation with a happy ending.”

Lucifer shakes his head glumly.

“Then maybe later, yeah? Because if you don’t make me come soon, I’m pretty sure I _will_ burst into flames.”

He looks at her, startled out of his brooding, as if he’s just remembered they’re naked, pressed flush together, and his hand is sandwiched between her legs.

“Where _are_ my manners, Detective Decker!” He presses a quick kiss against her mouth and shifts her so she’s lying on her back, propped up a bit against the arm of the sofa, disengaging to crawl down the couch and throw her legs over his shoulders. “One orgasm, coming right up!”

He buries his face in her pussy with enthusiasm, and she emits a sound she hadn’t realized she could make before subsiding back into quiet gasps. She’s not typically enormously vocal, even with Satan himself between her thighs. With how wound up she is already, it doesn’t take much to bring her to the edge—but he’s stopped and is peering up at her.

“Come on,” Chloe pants, tugging at his hair. Is this some kind of attempt at edging?

“Right,” he says, quickly returning to his work. But a few minutes later, he stops again, squinting at her face like he’s trying to read very small text.

“What’s the problem?”

“Sorry, just wanted to make sure—I can’t really rely on my normal—this is like driving at night with no headlights. In a snowstorm.”

“Are you seriously telling me you’re incapable of having sex without the help of magical angel powers? This is how literally every human has to do it.”

“And I hold myself to higher standards than literally every human!”

She deploys her secret weapon. “All I’m saying is, back in the day, Dan had no trouble getting me off faster than this.”

His jaw drops, affronted. “How _dare_ you!”

The effect is exactly as she’d intended—his mouth returns to her with a vengeance, clearly now with something to prove. Desire powers or not, the devil’s got talent, and he doesn’t seem enormously burdened with a need to breathe.

As her orgasm approaches, he thrusts his remarkably dextrous tongue inside her, licking furiously, and uses his long nose against her clit for what, as far as she’s concerned, is now its primary purpose. His stubble chafes against her thighs as she clenches them around his head. Her hips want to rise off the couch but he presses one large hand down firmly on her abdomen, holding her in place as he moves faster and faster—

“O-o-ohhh!”

The orgasm is whiteout-good, and he manages to keep it going for an exquisitely long time. By the time her muscles un-clench and she manages to raise her head, he’s resting his chin on her hipbone, face wet up to the eyebrows, smiling in that disarmingly youthful, kid-in-a-candy-shop way he sometimes has.

She looks down further and notices he has one hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, not moving.

“Almost came,” he explains with a self-deprecating raise of the eyebrows after noticing her glance. “Eating you out is—was—a bit of a, shall we say a ‘life goal’ of mine.”

“I’m...“ She’s still out of breath. “Happy to help you...accomplish your goals.” 

“I have a list! If I had a pen and paper I could write it down for you.” He sits up and casts about as if he actually would like to deliver her an itemized list of sex acts.

“Hey,” she catches his face with one hand and forces him to stop and look at her, the pressure of her fingers on his cheeks making his lips pucker out. “It’s about time you fucked me now.”

He freezes, eyes huge and blinking a few times as he struggles to process that statement. Then he’s nodding rapidly, his expression like someone psyching himself up to bungee jump for the first time, a slightly manic and terrified determination.

“Mm-hm. Yes. And I’m going to. Right now.”

He doesn’t move, though, so Chloe does, sitting up and pushing him over onto his back again. His cock slips against her sopping wet sex a couple times as she positions herself, prompting him to hiss. That hiss suddenly crescendoes into a litany of expletives and filthy groans when she lowers herself onto him.

Still rung out from her orgasm, her thighs tremble with the effort of lowering herself slowly and once he’s seated fully inside her, she finds herself barely able to lift up off him at all.

“You’re going to have to do all the work, Lucifer,” she pants, taking his hands from where they’re clenched in the upholstery and bringing them to her hips. She leans forward, bracing her hands on his chest, and lets him effortlessly lift her hips up and down. As for Lucifer, he seems to be operating on autopilot, his eyes flitting back and forth between her face and where they’re joined, mouth agape in something like shock as he works her up and down.

“You okay down there?”

He shakes his head a bit in disbelief. “Chloe.”

“That’s my name.”

“Chloe—“

“Don’t wear it out.”

He barks out a laugh, surprising himself. “I surely can’t be accused of _that_.”

She’s really starting to get into it, feeling herself building toward another orgasm, when he speaks again.

“You…desire this, correct?” His voice is uncharacteristically small and hesitant.

“Lucifer, of course I do,” she pants, and almost laughs until she catches sight of the look in his eyes and realizes his unspoken question. _You desire me?_

Feeling her heart swell painfully, she leans down swiftly and kisses him, then showers his stupid, beautiful, beloved face with more kisses. “I love you,” she whispers. “I’ll always desire you.”

His face splits in a grin and in a flash she’s on her back, feet in the air, one leg hooked over his arm again (although this time, she suspects, deliberately) and he’s driving into her with enthusiasm. She’s treated to a sight she’s now fantasized about enough that it feels familiar: the image of his naked back flexing and rolling as he thrusts into her, reflected in the ceiling. But the real thing is so, so much better than the fantasy. She rakes her fingernails up his shoulders, his ass, delighting in the red lines they leave behind on his pale, freckled skin. She’s the only one who gets to mark the Devil.

“Chloe,” he moans. “Chloe, Chloe, _Chloe_.” He chants her name over and over as his rhythm accelerates.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps as her pleasure mounts.

“Don’t think I could,” he replies with a breathy laugh. The force of his thrusts is inching her backwards along the cushions and her head nearly collides with the corner of the couch before one of his arms shoots out to brace them against it.

“Lucifer, I’m—“ She doesn’t manage to finish the thought before she’s coming, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.

“You’re what?” He pants, pulling up to look down at her. “Oh, you’ve come. Good.”

In a few more thrusts he’s joining her, hips twitching as he pulses into her again and again, collapsing onto her inelegantly. She doesn’t particularly mind. After all, when have they ever done things perfectly the first time?

* * *

The next day a heavy envelope appears in her mailbox, hand-delivered and addressed to her. Inside she finds several sheets of expensive stationary covered top-to-bottom in Lucifer’s elegant, slightly old-fashioned handwriting. After a quick glance at the first page, she feels her face heat and hurriedly stuffs the envelope away into her purse before Trixie can see it.

The contents of the first page are as follows:

_My dear Detective,_

_If your offer to help me accomplish my goals still stands, I thought you might like that list we spoke of. I have helpfully struck out the goals already achieved._

_-L_

  1. <strike>_Eating you out_</strike>
  2. _Eating you out at precinct_
  3. _Eating you out in your cruiser_
  4. _You bend me over your desk and peg me_
  5. _You bend me over anything_
  6. _69_
  7. _Me handcuffed, you as by-the-books police detective disciplining me_
  8. <strike>_Missionary_</strike>_ (ugh, I can’t believe I just wrote that but I can’t lie to you)_
  9. _You make me come under the table while you interrogate a suspect_
  10. _You as virginal nun, tempted by the Devil_
  11. _You and Maze team up to torture me_
  12. _You and Maze (me watching)_
  13. _You blow me during a stakeout_
  14. _Eating you out during a stakeout (noticing a theme here, Detective?)_
  15. _Dinner and a movie and edging_
  16. _Me blindfolded, you with hot wax_
  17. _Light sadomasochism_
  18. _Heavy sadomasochism_
  19. _Orgasm contest (who can make the other have the most, longest, etc. —prize TBD?)_
  20. <strike>_Cowgirl_</strike>
  21. _Reverse cowgirl_
  22. _A whole night dedicated to your breasts_
  23. _Too many vibrators!_
  24. _A deep dive into my nipple clamp collection_
  25. _Hot Tub High School co-watch, with commentary_

The list continues for nine subsequent pages.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Overexcited](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569304) by [MoanDiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary)
  * [That Color So Lush](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753786) by [MoanDiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary)


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